With A Word You May Slay Me
by LaVioleBlanche
Summary: Relationships are hard enough as it is, let alone a relationship between a Hunter and an Archangel-turned-Trickster. A misunderstanding leads to hurt, leads to silence, leads to conflict. T for now, may become M.
1. Chapter 1

Good Lord, where have I freaking BEEN the last few months? I don't even.

Characters are not mine, clearly, or the finale would have gone veeerrryyy differently.

...

This whole scene is painfully familiar to him.

Gabriel has the most frustrating sensation of deja-vu as he carefully sets his clever trap, sending a projection to taunt and distract his brother while he sneaks up from behind. He tightens his grip on the blade, hating this, hating the sick feeling in his gut, hating that he has to do this to his big brother, to Lucifer.

Most of all he hates doing this to Sam.

It was the hunter finally saying 'yes' that brought this on, this sudden burst of giving a fuck on the part of the ex-Trickster. Figures that it would take Sam doing the one thing Gabriel tried to convince him of to make the Archangel realize that, in fact, he'd really rather _not_ have his brother living inside his crush's body. And, well, he'd rather not watch humanity burn, either. But that's secondary.

He's talking now, through his projection, going through the banter with the fallen angel, and again it feels odd, like he's reading from a script, speaking mechanically. Lucifer's mouth quirks- or rather, Lucifer quirks Sam's mouth- and he says something, but before Gabriel has time to respond, the Morningstar spins on one heel, catches the younger being's wrist, and buries the blade in the Trickster's gut.

"-I know where your heart truly lies," he finishes as he wrenches his hand- Sam's hand- back and forth, dragging the gash wider across Gabriel's chest. The Archangel chokes, clutches desperately at Sam's shirt, trying to say- something, anything, to beg or scream or just ask _why_, but only blood spills from his lips. He can feel his Grace pulling free, ripping, torn away from his body, feel his brother drinking it in greedily. It hurts, this betrayal, this knife, the soft smile on Lucifer's face. What hurts most, though, is that it's not Lucifer's face. It's Sam's face, sweet-natured Sammy, big, clumsy Moose, Sam's eyes that burn into his as the last of his Grace bleeds away-

Gabriel jerks awake, lips parted in a gasp that he manages to catch before it escapes. Unlike certain hopeless, Dean-obsessed Angels, Gabe has long since discovered the wondrous sensation of a good night's rest. He enjoys sleeping. He spent a better part of the sixties asleep (and was so disgusted by the state of affairs when he woke up that he went back to sleep for another five years). However, as it is a more or less human habit, it comes with human drawbacks. Namely, dreams. Or nightmares. Gabriel is well-acquainted with nightmares, thank you very much, and is just as well-versed in dealing with them as he is in dealing with high-and-mighty assholes.

He can't deny, though, that they started getting worse and worse, hitting more and more frequently after his first encounter with the twin bundles of trouble wrapped in devastatingly easy-to-fall-for packages, the Winchesters. Visions of black-eyed monsters, writhing smoke, sudden agony. His older brother, Lucifer, cradling him tenderly even as he twists a bloodied knife, shattering the Archangel's Grace. His youngest brother, Castiel- sweet, naive Castiel, puppyishly devoted to a righteous, blindingly bright human soul- standing beside a demon, dark, sickly power pulsing around him. Michael, falling forever into an endless darkness. Rachael dead. Raphael dead. Balthazar dead, face twisted in shock and betrayal. Castiel again, this time smiling a heart-wrenchingly familiar smile up at Dean as he presses an all-powerful blade into the human's hand. Dean's face contorted with sorrow as he slips the dagger between Castiel's ribs. Castiel dead. Dean dead, killed trying to resurrect his Angel from the deepest part of Hell. Sam, alone, standing in front of a row of graves that hold no bodies, only ashes and salt.

What terrifies Gabriel about these dreams is the truth behind them. He can feel them happening, feel events unfolding, leading toward a conclusion he refuses to face. He'll do anything it takes to turn away from that dark path he sees ahead. That's why he's signed on to this kamikaze party, this "Team Free Will".

Well, that's one reason, anyway.

The other reason rolls over and drapes an arm over the Archangel-turned-Trickster's shoulder, snuffling incoherently in his sleep. Gabriel smiles at being turned into little more than a heating pillow by six-something feet of Moose muscle.

No matter how many times they go over it, no matter how much mind-blowing, holy-shit-you-broke-my-vessel-I'm-never-gonna-be-able-to-walk-again sex they have, he will never understand why Sam puts up with him. He's obnoxious, vindictive, selfish, and too clever for his own good- to say nothing of the fact that he trapped both Sammy and Dean in a never-ending mindfuck of cruel games.

He heaves a sigh, a shudder passing through him as the dream clings to his thoughts. Sensing his movement, Sam's arm tightens automatically around the smaller body, not really awake as he mumbles into Gabriel's neck, "'S jus' a dream. G'back t'sleep, Jess."

...


	2. Chapter 2

...

Sam rises slowly from a dream made up more of sensation than sight: the dark, smooth taste of chocolate, suddenly turning coppery and bitter, a flash of heat, then seeping cold, the brush of feathers against his cheek and a crippling, agonizing pain in his chest. It takes him a few moments to realize that this isn't his dream- it's Gabriel's.

This happens occasionally; Sam picking up on the Archangel's unconscious frequency by accident. The first time it happened, the human was jolted awake in a cold sweat, trying to claw his own skin off. Once they'd realized what had happened (he'd wandered into a memory of Gabe being burned with Hellfire, sometime in the 1300s), the Trickster was overcome with guilt and attempted, yet again, to convince Sam that their relationship was dangerous for the hunter. Of course, Sam was having none of that, and after a round of scolding, followed by several rounds of we're-not-breaking-up-so-get-used-to-this-cuz-you're-stuck-with-me sex, they'd said no more about it. Sam knows, though, that Gabriel still feels responsible every time his dreams bleed over to the Winchester's. He also knows that if his Angel realizes that Sam was dream-peeping again, he'll sulk for days. To avert this, he rolls over, draws the smaller body towards his, sharing his body heat, trying to chase the nightmare from both their minds. He doesn't say this often enough, but he loves the way Gabriel fits perfectly in his arms, the way Sam can enfold him completely, tuck him in and rest his chin atop the Archangel's head. He feels Gabe shiver, responding to his touch, and he nuzzles at the hollow of the Trickster's throat, murmuring indistinctly through a mouthful of sleep, "'S jus' a dream. G'back t'sleep, gorgeous."

Gabriel tenses in his arms, and Sam wonders if he objects to the nickname. The ex-demigod doesn't let on in public, but that's another of his little insecurities- he's self-conscious, highly-aware of his vessel's shortcomings (no pun intended), whether real or imagined. He's offered to change his appearance when they're together, make himself taller, more toned, or softer, curvier, anything Sam wants. That was the first time in their relationship that Sam got angry- really angry.

_"Look at me!" He'd snapped. "Would you change something about me? Am I not good enough for you or something?"_

_Gabe had stood there in nothing but his boxers, gaping in shock at the outburst. "What? Sammy- no! Of course- you can't- I don't want you to change at all! You're perfect!" Catching himself, he'd thrown a quick, deflective comment. "I mean, your hair could do with a trim, but-"_

_"Then what the hell makes you think _you're_ not good enough for _me_?" Sam interrupted, still looking furious._

_Gabriel floundered, completely blindsided by the question. The look on his face, lost and confused (and proving his relation to Castiel), was so blatantly cute that Sam couldn't help but be a little charmed._

_His expression softening, he'd cupped the shorter man's face and kissed him gently. "You're Gabriel," he'd said quietly. "You're an Archangel of the Lord. You're short, You've got a twisted sense of humor. You're mouthy. You've got a sweet tooth that could put Willy Wonka out of business. And I love you, so much that it hurts, just the way you are."_

_He'd pulled away then, just a little, to get a look at Gabe. The Trickster's tawny eyes were wide and shining wetly, so much pain and shock and _emotion_ in them as he whispered, "_Sammy_," and dragged the hunter back down for another kiss._

_"One thing, though," Sam said sternly, grinning in spite of his tone, "You seriously need to quit calling me Sammy."_

Gabriel shifts again, like he's trying to slip away without disturbing his companion. Before Sam can form a sentence of protest, there's a _snap_ and suddenly there's only an empty warm spot where the Archangel was.

He sits up, blinking owlishly and scanning the dark room like he expects Gabe to be standing at the window. The bedroom is empty save for him, the only sound his own breathing.

"Gabe?"

...

Reviews= updates.


	3. Chapter 3

So, this would have been posted a lot sooner, but I managed to get some sort of violent stomach lurgy and spent the day puking my guts out. So sorry about the delay! Here's a Destiel chapter for you.

...

Dean has been awake since around 2 am. It's gone 6 now, which means he should get up off Bobby's couch and get started scanning newspapers and websites for suspicious activity- and probably stop depleting his last stash of good beer- but dammit, he's_ this close_ to beating Sam's time record for Portal 2.

Besides, he's not sitting there alone, like some sad teenager. Seated next to him is one doe-eyed, trench coated Angel. Yet another of Cas' many, many odd little traits, Dean has found, is that he likes to sit and watch the hunter play video games. He won't play (no matter how many times Dean offers or even insists), just perch quietly next to him and stare intently back and forth, from the screen, to the human's face, back to the screen. He's learned to make the occasional suggestion, comment, or little noise so that Dean doesn't forget he's there ("_Shit_, Cas! Warn a guy! How long have you been there?" "Long enough that I would like to know why the cake is a lie."). And, well, if he sits a little closer than is strictly necessary, if their legs brush every now and then, chalk it up to his lack of respect for personal space. At the moment, he's attempting to advise the Winchester through an absurdly complex obstacle course- which isn't going well, due to the fact that Dean is intent on doing the exact opposite of whatever the Angel recommends.

"But, Dean, you've tried to jump across that stairwell three times already and died each time. I believe you need to utilize that repulsion gel-"

"Cas, it's fine, I've got my Companion Cube this time, I'll be- DAMMIT!"

"I did try to-"

"Cas, if you don't shut it, I will punch you in the halo."

Castiel opens his mouth, probably to give a long-winded speech about how he doesn't really have a "halo", and even if he did Dean wouldn't be able to touch it on this plane, blah blah blah, but the human shoots him the patented "shut your pie hole" look and Castiel obediently shuts it.

"Ahh, screw it." Dean throws the controller down and grabs his third half-empty bottle of Narragansett. "I quit." He glares at the Xbox (a guess-what-I'm-banging-your-brother gift from a certain Archangel) before turning to see his friend staring at the ceiling, brow furrowed.

The hunter frowns, looking up to see the lights flicker twice, die briefly, then flare to life once more. In this house, that generally means one of two things: either there's something malevolent trying to get in (which isn't likely, with two Angels and the occasional demon guarding it) or there's supernatural sex going on upstairs.

"Ohhh, perfect," he groans, letting his head fall back against the sofa. "Stupid game's all glitchy, and now your insatiable brother is up there humping mine-"

"It bothers you," Cas states quietly, still looking up.

"What?" Dean glances at him. "Uhh, yeah it bother me, there's an _Archangel_ butt-banging my little _brother_-"

"Actually I am told that, in fact, Sam is the one that typically inserts his-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up there, cowboy. I do _not_ need any more mental scarring, thanks very much. I get enough from- hey, wait, how the hell do you even know that? Oh god, I don't wanna know, do I?"

The Angel shrugs, still avoiding his companion's gaze. "Gabriel was complaining about Sam's... size... causing damage to his vessel and making it difficult to walk." Dean makes a horrified choking sound, which Castiel ignores as he continues, "That is not what I meant, however. When I said it bothers you."

"Yeah? What did you mean, then?"

"The fact that your brother is in a relationship with mine. What bothers you about it is not that Gabriel is male-"

"Oh, lemme tell you, it bothers me plenty. I mean, I got no problem with two guys and definitely no problem with two ladies goin' at it, but, well, when it's my brother I just get-"

"What _bothers_ you," Castiel says, turning to fix the human with that infinitely sad, infinitely knowing gaze, "is that Gabriel is an Angel. I know that you- have no love for Angels."

Dean snorts and takes another gulp of beer. "You got that right. Buncha sneaky sonsobitches. Hell, gimme a straight-up demon over an Angel any day. At least those bastards are straightforward 'bout what they want for the most part. When you deal with a demon, you know the score: they wanna kill you, that's their ultimate goal. Tha's it." Another drink. "But with fuckin' _Angels_," he spits with a curled lip, "Fuckin' Angels don't just wanna kill you; they wanna live inside your body or blackmail you or stab you in the back or trap you in some room with no windows or doors or use you as some freaking pawn in a war you got nothing to do with, or, or-" He stops, noticing how quiet it is, remembering who he's talking to.

Slowly, like he's trying not to startle an animal, the Winchester sets his beer down on the floor by their feet and turns to peer at his friend. Cas is silent, his hands folded in his lap, his shoulders drawn together and his eyes fixed on some distant spot.

Open mouth, insert foot.

"Cas, I-" Dean starts, but the being next to him shakes his head and turns once more to face him, smiling his tragic, enigmatic smile.

"It's alright, Dean. It is... good to hear your true feelings on the matter." He starts to rise from the sofa, voice level as he adds, "I will let you get some rest now-"

The hunter lunges forward, almost falling off the couch as he fumbles to grab for the Angel's sleeve, trying to yank him back down. "Cas, I didn't-" He stumbles over his own feet, his knees hitting the floor, and immediately Cas is there next to him, catching him, easing him back onto the couch.

"Dean, you are slightly intoxicated," he says gently. "You need to get some sleep; I will get you a glass of water to prevent dehydration."

Dean, however, has seized the opportunity and latched onto the smaller man, preventing his escape. "Cas, just- just shut up a minute and let me talk. I didn't... I wasn't talking about you, okay? You're not really... you're like the exception that proves the rule. You're different."

"I have been made aware of this fact, Dean," Cas says, and he just sounds so _tired_ all of a sudden, like this is something he's been told over and over, never with good connotations._ Probably by that asshat Zach_, Dean thinks.

"But that's a _good thing_, Cas," he says forcefully, gripping the fabric of that stupid, familiar trench coat. "Think about it. If you were just another foot soldier- er, wing soldier- like, if you'd just done everything they told you to do, what would've happened? You would've had to kill Sam, Luci and Michael would've duked it out, probably wiped out half the planet. You probably would've been killed. I probably would've been killed, rather than let Michael wear me."

Castiel is quiet again, eyes down. "That is... a possibility. One that I prefer not to think about."

"See, if it weren't for you being the feathery little rebel that you are, the whole world would've been fucked," Dean proclaims victoriously. "So, being _different_? I'd chalk that up to being the best thing that ever happened to you."

The Angel's mouth quirks for just an instant and he shakes his head once more. "No. I don't believe it was."

The human chuckles a little. "Well, what was, then? Hamburgers? Jack Daniel's? That Chastity chick?"

Cas doesn't answer, and Dean looks up, still grinning. He falters when he's met with that look, intense and compassionate, reflected in eyes so deep and blue that it's like looking into the sky or the ocean.

"No," Cas says hoarsely.

Dean's throat works, swallowing against the sudden dryness as he notices just how close they've somehow gotten. His gaze drops to follow the slight movement of Cas' tongue as it darts out to wet his lips. Dean's fingers are still clutching the collar of the trench coat, pulling it down to reveal a sliver of pale skin.

"Cas..."

Those brilliant blue eyes are half-closed, still looking so lost and so damn _sad_, and it's the easiest, most natural thing to lean in, to brush the tip of his nose to Castiel's, to feel his breath as his chapped lips part slightly, not quite forming a word, and all Dean can think is _Jesus, I'm really gonna do it this time, I'm going to kiss him, I'm going to kiss Cas, I'm going to kiss Cas and he's going to let me and I need to do it because I need to stop him hurting, need to stop him being so sad because it's my fault and I can't stand it, I can't, I can't-!_

He jerks back, eyes wide, accidentally knocking over the half-bottle of beer as footsteps come tromping down the stairs and a wild-eyed, bed-headed Sam appears.

"Have you guys seen Gabe?" He asks frantically, glancing around the living room.

"Uh." Dean's brain is temporarily stuck in "hold up, shouldn't there be an Angel attached to my face right now?" mode.

Fortunately Cas manages to be more eloquent. "I am afraid not, Sam."

"Dammit-" the taller Winchester goes storming through the room to the kitchen, stops suddenly, does a 180, and comes back into the living room, staring at them. "Whoa."

"Sam-" Dean warns, but his little brother is already wearing a shit-eating grin and pointing accusingly at them.

"What exactly did I just interrupt here?"

"_Nothing_, Sam," Dean grates out, pulling away from Cas and moving to the far end of the couch, ignoring the spreading pool of beer soaking into the floorboards.

Castiel stands up, brushing imaginary wrinkles from his coat, and addresses Sam, not looking at Dean. "What happened?"

"We, uh, we were lying in bed, kind of half-awake, cuddling-" Dean makes a gagging sound and Sam glares at him. "And he just snapped his fingers and- poofed away. I dunno where or why or anything." He doesn't mention the nightmare; he knows that aside from himself, only Cas knows about them, and that Gabriel wouldn't appreciate Dean or anyone else finding out.

The Angel nods once. "I will search for him." He's gone in a flutter and a rustle of papers.

Sam turns to his brother. "Dude. What the hell did you do?"

"I dunno what you're talking about, Sam."

"To Cas! He was all- he looked all ruffled or whatever."

"I didn't do anything! What did _you_ do to Gabriel?"

Sam sighs and stares out the window, feeling as lost as Cas had looked.

"I don't know."

...


	4. Chapter 4

Bro-chat time.

...

The brothers Winchester sit awkwardly on the couch, waiting for the Angel to return. As the minutes tick by, Sam's overactive brain replays the scene in bed over and over again, wondering what he missed. This is one of the problems with dating the Trickster (if you can really call it dating, since their "dates" tend to consist of them running after ghosts in abandoned houses, which don't lend themselves to a romantic atmosphere). For all they know, Gabe could have simply gotten a craving and popped off to Paris for an eclair. On the other hand, he might've had some kind of traumatic episode after the nightmare and gone off to tackle a hoard of demons single-handedly. Hell, he might just want some alone time. Bobby has remarked that Gabriel was clearly meant to be a part of the Winchester family- he bottles up his emotions with the best of them.

_But what if he didn't leave voluntarily? _his stupid brain supplies. _What if he got summoned or lured away to some Archangel trap? What if he's hurt; dying somewhere while I sit here on the sofa?_

Sam sighs and runs his hands through his still-mussy hair, banishing those thoughts- no point in thinking them until he hears back from Cas. Upstairs, the sounds of footsteps and running water indicate that the old mechanic is awake.

"Okay," Dean says at last, like he's been building himself up to speak. "Go over it for me. Just- just skip the squicky details."

"There aren't any 'squicky details', Dean, we weren't _doing_ anything. We were just- you know. Cuddling. Some couples actually do that, have intimate moments that don't involve sex, unlike certain emotionally constipated jerks."

"Bite me, bitch. You're just sad that you'll never beat my record."

Sam smirks, glad to be falling back into the easy banter. It takes his mind off the possibilities. "Excuse me? If anything, _you_ should be jealous of _my_ record. I've gotten to every base in existence, and possibly invented a few new ones, with my Angel. How far have you gotten with yours?"

Dean sputters some typical, incomprehensibly indignant "Dean-flection" as his brother laughs.

"Just- I'm not- I don't know what you mean! What are you, turning into Becky? Just tell me what happened!"

"He..." The taller Winchester's voice drops. "Don't tell anyone about this, but he gets sort of- flashbacks."

"To what?"

"To everything, Dean. He's and Archangel; most of his existence has been nightmare material. I mean, you-" he glances at his brother. "-you remember Hell. Imagine what _he_ remembers." He pauses, struck by a thought. "Jesus, imagine what _Cas_ remembers."

Dean swallows and shifts uncomfortably, which Sam pretends not to notice.

"Anyway," he continues. "He had a flashback, he woke up, I woke up, I called him some pet name or other, told him to go back to sleep, and he disappeared."

"Who disappeared?" Bobby's gruff voice asks from the top of the stairs.

"Sam's boyfriend," Dean calls, shooting Sam a victorious look.

"And Dean's boyfriend went to find him," Sam finishes, crossing his arms smugly.

"First time this house's been an Angel-free zone in a good while," the old hunter observes as he heads into the kitchen. "Better do something blasphemous, just to commemorate the moment."

There's a gust of wind and the ruffle of feathers, followed by the sudden appearance of a dirty, frustrated-looking Cas.

"Anything?" Sam asks without much hope.

The Angel shakes his head in defeat. "Wherever he is, he is shielding his Grace from me. I am unable to sense him anywhere on this plane." He treats everyone to his patented Sad Cas Eyes. "I am sorry, Sam, for failing. I will continue to search; I simply needed to come here and re-check the wards so that nothing can get in while I am gone-"

"It's okay, Cas," Dean interjects, rising halfway from the couch. "I mean, the guy's an Archangel at mostly-full power; you're at a quarter of a tank on a good day since you got the angelic boot. Cut yourself some slack, man."

Castiel looks up at the human, doing that "Dean is the only thing in the world right now" thing he does whenever they're in the same room together. "Thank you, Dean," he says quietly, tearing his gaze away to stare at his feet.

Dean does the same awkward teenage shuffle, covering it with a brusque, "Yeah, well, you're no good to anyone if you overexert yourself again."

Bobby rolls his eyes at Sam and steps back into the kitchen. The younger Winchester clears his throat self-consciously. "Well. What do we do?"

The Angel turns to blink at him like he'd forgotten Sam was in the room. "Oh. Uh. Well, until I can figure out how to summon him, we may have to simply wait."

"Great."

"I'm sure he will return," Cas says, as encouragingly as he is capable.

"Yeah, he'll come wandering back with his tail between his legs once he's gotten over his Angel menstrual cycle or whatever," Dean adds helpfully.

Sam tunes out Castiel explaining that Angels do not experience the menstrual cycle, let alone Archangels in male vessels. He turns to look out the window, hoping that this is just a simple case of Gabe being Gabe, a simple overreaction on his part.

He's not sure if he can handle the other possibilities.


	5. Chapter 5

"Jesus, Sam, if you don't quit pacing I'm gonna have a nervous breakdown."

Sam shoots his brother a bitch face but doesn't respond, choosing instead to storm upstairs, back to the room he and Gabriel share. His ankles are immediately assaulted by Walter, Gabe's Jack Russell terrier, dancing between his legs and peppering him with doggy affection. The tall human can't help but smile a little, remembering the first time his Archangel brought Walter to meet him.

_Sam stares down at the bundle of canine energy in Gabriel's arms. The Archangel looks a little apprehensive, like an anxious parent displaying their newborn, and Sam chuckles, rubbing the dog's ears._

_"What, you got lonely and bored of underwear models so you manifested yourself a dog?"_

_"Uh... kind of, not exactly..."_

_"Wait," Sam pauses as he feels a slightly raised scar on the dog's back- an imperfection. "Is he- real?"_

_"Yeah," Gabe admits, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "I found him in a dumpster in the seventies."_

_"The... seventies? How old is this dog?" The human asks incredulously. _

_"At least forty?" Gabriel offers with a grin. "There are perks to being an Archangel's pet, you know."_

_"There sure are," Sam says with a smirk, all implications and tender amusement at his holy warrior's soft side._

"Sam, may I speak with you?"

Castiel- of course it's Castiel, looking awkward in the doorway- steps into the room. "I- would like to talk to you about my brother."

The human manages a sort of almost-laugh, feeling like he must be trapped in one of Gabe's sitcoms again, like he's gonna have to sit through the Angelic version of the "so you're dating my brother" talk. "Sure, why not?"

Cas takes a moment, like he's thinking it over, choosing his words. "Gabriel is... complicated."

Sam snorts, and Cas nods understandingly.

"I realize that is an understatement. But there are- things about him that I'm sure he hasn't told you. Things that would destroy most beings utterly." He drops his gaze guiltily. "It is not my place to tell you these things. However, I feel it is necessary at this point to share a few of them."

"Uh, okay..."

Castiel clears his throat, looking more uncomfortable than usual. "As I'm sure you know, Gabriel has had many, many lovers during his lifetime."

"Uh, yeah," Sam says self-consciously. "I was aware of that."

"He has had many lovers," the Angel repeats, "But he has truly _loved_, to my knowledge, only two of them."

Sam arches an eyebrow. "Kali and-?"

This time it's Cas that scoffs derisively. "Kali barely registers. She was quite recent, and Gabriel is not given to 'long-term' relationships... he has suffered too much betrayal."

"You seem to know a lot about it."

"I may not be very good at picking up on human emotion, but I have always been good at 'reading' most of my brothers. Particularly Gabriel, which strikes many as odd- he's always been the best at lying to everyone, including himself."

"Yeah," the Winchester agrees sadly. "But if not Kali, who-?"

"His 'first' love was... ages ago. Before time existed. Before- anything. He-" Castiel pauses, almost wincing, and something clicks in Sam's mind.

"An Angel," he says. "He was in love with another Angel. Another Archangel?"

"...Yes."

"Who?" The tall human steps forward, apprehensive and feeling a cold pit sink into his stomach. "Cas, who was it?"

The dark-haired man raises his unnaturally blue eyes, grim and resolute. "Who do you think?"

No.

_You're someone's bitch._

No.

_Don't you _ever_ presume to know what I am._

No.

_I know where your heart truly lies._

No.

"He..." Sam feels sick. He feels dizzy and nauseous and like he really, really wants to throw a lamp or kick a chair or flip a table or something. "He was- in love with-"

"Understand somethings, Sam," Castiel says urgently. "This was before Lucifer Fell. He was one of us, once. He was beautiful and fierce and loyal and he truly loved Gabriel."

"And Gabriel loved him," Sam whispers. "Jesus, is that why he's with me? Because I'm Lucifer's vessel? Am I just some kind of-"

"_No_, Sam," the Angel says sharply, looking angered at the implication. "You are not listening. When Lucifer rebelled, when the War began, he asked Gabriel to join him. To help him destroy humanity. Gabriel refused. He would have no part of it. Do you understand? He saw your potential, the things your kind would do, the great love you were capable of- and for it, he lost his own love. It changed him; made him doubt our Father, and was the beginning of the end for him as a holy messenger, but his faith in humans-" He looks up at Sam. "-in _you_- kept him from Falling."

Sam Winchester is speechless.

"Standing up to Lucifer as he did," Cas continues, "I do not doubt that it was one of the hardest things he has ever done. But you see, Sam, he _did_ do it. _He chose you, Sam, long before you even existed_."

There is a long silence as the human processes. "...Oh," he manages, at last.

Some of the intensity fades from Castiel's eyes, replaced by the distant, sad look he tends to get when Dean hits on women in front of him. "So yes, he is closed off to most. He distances himself with humor and an abrasive attitude. But he chooses to put a great deal of trust in you- perhaps not enough, but more than he does anyone else." He sighs. "To force the one you love to make that choice, as Lucifer did to Gabriel- that is the greatest betrayal he could have committed. That kind of thing- hurts."

Sam peers at Cas, hearing the weariness and nostalgia in his voice. "You sound like you're speaking from personal experience."

Castiel immediately goes blank-faced.

"Oh." Sam says again. "...Balthazar?" He guesses, and is vindicated by the twitch in the Angel's shoulders and the look of surprise on his face. "Yeah, you're easier to read than you think, and I'm good at picking up on that kind of thing." He pauses. "...Does Dean know?"

Again with the blank expression. "Why would Dean need to know?"

"Why? Because that's generally the kind of thing you tell someone you lo- er. Share a... profound bond with or whatever." He gives Cas a friendly pat on the shoulder. "I think Dean would like it if you opened up to him a bit more. You Angels are a shy bunch."

"That would..." The smaller being shifts awkwardly. "That would be a 'chick flick' thing to do. Dean dislikes those."

Sam smiles, feeling like the older brother, not for the first time. "I think he'd make an exception for you."

Castiel smiles hesitantly back. "Thank you, Sam. You are... a good friend, despite being an abnormal creature with a damaged soul."

"Aaand there goes that moment." He brushes the dog hair from his shirt and starts toward the door, then halts and asks, as casually as he can, "So, uh, who was the other one?"

Headtilt. "What?"

"You know, the uh," Sam clears his throat. "The other person Gabriel really loved. Loves. Who is it?"

Castiel looks confused a moment, then gets that warm amused-by-humanity look, shaking his head with a faint smile as he says, "Sam Winchester, you do not need to ask. You know who it is."


	6. Chapter 6

A healthy dose of awesome!Dean in this chapter.

...

Dean's had enough of this. This house is getting so packed with girly emotions it's starting to feel like a high school drama movie. Sam's boyfriend is playing hard-to-get? Well, Dean's picked up on a few Angel-snagging tips.

He heads to the kitchen, glancing around to be sure that no one's around- Bobby's in town getting "groceries" (whiskey, beer and more whiskey, the staples of any household), and Cas is upstairs with Sam, no doubt having a talk about feelings and cute clothes and which boy they think is gonna ask them to the Prom.

Rolling his eyes, Dean bends to grab the battered mixing bowl and a spoon, a bag of sugar, a half-empty carton of eggs, and, after several minutes of digging around, a bag of flour. The chocolate chips are easy enough; there's bags of them everywhere. It takes another ten minutes to find the waffle maker.

The first batch is slightly crispier than it should be- it's been, like, two years since he's made waffles- but the second batch is golden and perfect and he sets the plate out conspicuously on the table, turning his back to it to pour more batter into the iron.

Of course, when he turns back around, half the waffles are suspiciously absent. He smirks victoriously. "Okay, get your ass out here."

There's a few beats of silence, then a heavy sigh and a snap, and Gabriel materializes in the doorway, cheeks bulging with pilfered breakfast pastry. "Pretty clever, Dean-o," he admits grudgingly, still chewing.

"Siddown," Dean snaps, pointing to the chairs around the table.

Gabriel sits down.

"Right," the human heaves a bracing sigh and begins. "Now, you listen the hell up, cos there is no way I'm ever repeating this, and if asked about this conversation later, I will feign complete ignorance. Got me?"

"Ooh, Dean, so forceful today," the Archangel grins. "Is that how Cassie-boy likes it? Ew, you know what, no, don't answer that. Forget I asked that."

Dean, as is usually the case when the subject of him and Castiel is brought up, flusters indignantly. "What? No! What? Just- just shut up and listen."

Gabriel places both elbows on the tabletop, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hands, the perfect image of rapt attention. Dean shakes his head in grudging determination.

"God, I can't believe I'm gonna say this. _Shut it._" He adds threateningly before the smirking being can make a comment.

Gabriel makes a show of cramming an entire waffle into his mouth, closing it, and miming a zipper across his lips.

Sighing again and hating this conversation already, the hunter leans against the counter, arms folded across his chest in the most aggressive fashion he can manage.

"Okay. So." He closes his eyes briefly, thinks _This is for Sam, remember, and he's gonna owe me forever after this_, and plunges on. "So I get that maybe you and Sam are having like- I don't even- like a lover's spat or something, and apparently something happened that he somehow missed, and now you're all butthurt-"

"Really, Dean? Really."

Dean winces. "Okay, so bad word choice, I walked right into that one."

The smaller man nods, smirking and shoveling another waffle in.

The human shakes himself and continues. "And I know you and Cas both like to do the whole 'I'm a mysterious Angel of the mysterious Lord of mystery and I keep my feelings bottled up like a New England housewife'-"

"Accurate assessment."

"-Seriously, shut up. And I know Sam seems like a big emotionally volatile teddy bear or whatever that just spends all day waxing poetic about his feelings and the feelings of everyone around him and shit, but when it comes to important relationship stuff he's actually pretty... self-contained. He has- he has trust issues, big shock. After the whole fiasco with She-Who-Will-Not-Be-Named, he sort of gave up on his whole 'settle down with someone and live the simple life' dream. And I think that really hurt him."

For once, the Trickster's honey-gold eyes seem to lose their wry, humorous barb of light. He looks like he's taking this conversation seriously for the first time, and Dean can't help but feel a rush of big-brotherly relief at that, at knowing that his words are getting through. This is the right thing to do.

"But sometimes, I catch him looking at you, and he's got that look. I can just tell what he's thinking, clear as day. And I can tell he's picturing a nice house, and a white-picket fence and a dog and all that jazz, and you know what? He fucking _glows_ when he looks at you like that." He takes a breath. "And yeah, sure, you're an Archangel, you've got battle scars like whoa, daddy issues, trust issues, blah blah blah, but don't you dare try and tell me that you don't wanna be the one living that perfect life with him. Because I've seen you look at him, too, when you think nobody will notice. So you know what? Fuck both of you and your insecurities; you're not allowed to let one little thing mess you up, because you guys_ love each other_."

Gabriel is silent for a long time, eyes down, and his voice is soft when he says, "He does glow."

Dean scowls. "Yeah, I know, and if you ever tell him I said any of this- especially that part- I will find a way to Angel-shank you in the balls."

"That's precious," the Archangel says, his grin returning as he stands and brushes crumbs from his jacket. "And what's really amusing about this is the fact that someday in the near future I'm pretty sure I'll have to give you a similar speech."

The hunter's frown deepens. "What d'you mean?"

"I mean," Gabriel reaches across the table and gently _boops_ Dean's nose, earning a swat and a glare, "Take your own advice. Your brother's not the only Winchester that gets all glowy and gooey-eyed over their personal Angel." He turns and heads for the stairs, hands in his pockets as he adds over his shoulder, "Look at it this way: poor little Castiel has waited since the birth of creation to get properly laid. Are you really enough of a dick to make him wait even longer?" On that note, he vanishes up the stairs, leaving Dean to his thoughts.


End file.
